A Great Measure of Absolution
by Thistle of Liberty
Summary: Tag to 4x02 "The Angel Maker". Rossi wants to know what on earth Hotch was thinking when he got on the plane and went out into the field. WARNING! Spanking of an adult.


**A/N: I've had a few requests for a fic dealing with "The Angel Maker", and now I've finally gotten around to it. Hopefully this will live up to everyone's expectations. :)**

**WARNINGS: Non-sexual spanking of an adult, some language. And a smidgeon of Hotch/Beth in case you can't stand that.  
**

* * *

_The truth brings with it a great measure of absolution, always._

_R.D. Laing, Scottish psychiatrist_

* * *

Hotch never got tired of coming home to his son's enthusiastic hugs and smiles. After sometimes days of pursuing murderers and trying to get inside the most twisted minds, the reminder that there were good things in the world was needed. And Jack was really enough to remind him of that, but that didn't mean Hotch minded when he arrived home and was greeted by a beautiful woman cooking dinner.

"Hotchner!" Beth exclaimed as Hotch entered, knocking on the door frame. Jack, standing beside her, also lit up at his entrance and ran over to give him a hug.

"Dad!"

"Hey, buddy. Beth. What are you guys making?"

"Lasagna!" Jack replied eagerly, grabbing hold of Hotch's hand and pulling him into the kitchen, "From Uncle Dave's recipe."

Hotch smiled. "You can tell him tomorrow. And about that," he turned to Beth, giving his most charming smile, "Do you want to go to a wedding tomorrow night?"

"Why, is this a proposal, Aaron Hotchner?" Beth teased, her entire face lighting up with a playful smile. Hotch gave her an innocent look.

"What, I actually need to _propose_?"

Beth laughed, but Jack, on the other hand, looked a bit confused. "Are you getting married to Beth, daddy?"

"No, buddy," Hotch replied, shaking his head and giving his son a soft smile, "Aunt JJ is getting married to Uncle Will, and she wants us to come to the wedding."

Beth nodded, moving over to finally give Hotch his welcome home hug. "I'm in, but for future reference I do believe it's customary to ask people a bit earlier than the day before."

"Well, it was only decided today," Hotch explained and at Beth's questioning, and somewhat skeptical, expression he continued, "I'll explain later."

"I'm mostly surprised you could arrange a wedding in twenty-four hours."

Hotch shrugged. "Dave called some people."

"Uncle Dave knows _looots _of people," Jack interjected, apparently bored with the conversation, "Can you help me make salad now, daddy?"

Beth exchanged an amused glance with Hotch over Jack's head and Hotch shrugged again, an I'll-tell-you-later gesture.

Dinner was great, filled mostly with Jack excitedly telling them about his school day. As most dinners with Jack, though, it was quite short and after ice cream for dessert, Jack got ready for bed, after Hotch promised that they would sleep in the fort the following night since he was too tired now.

And then, when Jack was finally asleep, Hotch took Beth in his arms and kissed her deeply. Because… well, because. They moved over the sofa, and for a while they continued the kiss. Then the kiss… deepened, and evolved into touching and feeling and stroking. And then, Hotch's phone buzzed. For a moment Hotch debated just ignoring it, but with his luck it was probably another extremely urgent case and he couldn't in good conscience ignore than, so with a groan he broke away from Beth and fished up his phone.

As he should have guessed, it was from Rossi.

**Got your ear checked out yet?**

Hotch rolled his eyes, and just put the phone away again. He supposed he should be grateful the older man hadn't showed up at his door with a tame doctor in tow, but still.

When he looked up, Beth was looking at him with raised eyebrows. "Dave," he explained.

"Oh. Wedding?"

"No," Hotch said, grimacing, "There was an explosion, and Dave thinks my ear might be damaged."

Beth straightened, a look of concern immediately on her face. "Is it?"

Hotch shook his head and was about to reply when his phone buzzed again.

**Aaron!**

He rolled his eyes again, shaking his head. "No, it's not. I…"

That was as far as he got before his phone buzzed _again_.

**You've got until tomorrow night. **

"He's just being overprotective and wants me to get it checked out."

Beth smiled. "I thought you were _his_ boss?"

"I am," Hotch protested, trying, and failing, not to smile, "But he's… Dave."

And he supposed that was why he had every intention of obeying the order. And, of course, the fact that the last time he'd ignored his ear problems things hadn't gone very well…

* * *

**My cabin asap.**

Hotch didn't need to read the name of the sender to know who the text was from, and the fact that he knew only one or two people who owned a cabin had little to do with it. Linguistic analysis wasn't his area of expertise, but he could without the slightest hesitation hear Rossi's curt voice behind those words.

The fact that the older man had given him a dressing down that he'd remember for a long time just the day before yesterday only confirmed his belief that Rossi was, for lack of a better word, royally pissed. Hotch could only assume that he had found out that he'd been… well, less than honest when he said he'd been cleared to fly. So far he'd let the other man believe that his doctor had only sort of cautioned him against loud noises and the like and that his biggest transgression was not letting Rossi know he might react that badly to them.

And whereas withholding of information concerning his health wasn't something Rossi approved of and had resulted in Hotch being sent to bed like an errant child, blatantly lying and disobeying doctor's orders would result in considerably more serious consequences than that. What was almost worse was that he knew deep down that he deserved whatever punishment Rossi dished out. He had lied to Rossi and his mentor deserved better than that.

Something which unfortunately didn't mean that he was any less nervous about facing the older profiler.

It only took him a few hours to reach Rossi's cabin and after realizing the door was locked he pulled out his spare key. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved that he wouldn't have to face Rossi just yet or disappointment that he'd have to wait, wallowing in nervousness.

When he entered he shrugged off his jacket, neatly placing it over a chair. He half wanted a glass of something to calm his nerves, but that he knew definitely wasn't allowed so with a deep sigh he simply took a seat on the sofa, resigning himself to spending however long it took Rossi to get home just worrying over the fate that awaited him.

Luckily, it didn't take that long; half an hour later Hotch heard Rossi's car pull up outside and with yet another sigh he got up and headed for the door. Before he'd even got to the hallway Rossi threw the door open forcefully and entered, the grim expression on his face enough to make Hotch already regret his decision to go out into the field.

"Have you got the slightest idea how much trouble you're in, Aaron Hotchner?" was Rossi's greeting words, his arms crossed and a stern glare trained on Hotch who didn't manage more than a inaudible mumble in reply, "Well?"

"Dave…" Hotch began, after trying to swallow down some of his nervousness, "I understand why you're upset and I agree that I might have been a bit hasty in my decision to…"

Rossi broke him off with a hand wave. "Upset?" he demanded incredulously, "Aaron, upset is what you get when your flight is delayed. I'm pissed. I'm furious. I just can't believe that you would do something so stupid!"

Hotch, unable to come up with a good way of answering the older man, just looked down at his feet and tried to look as contrite as he was beginning to feel. Rossi, maybe because he didn't get an answer, paused, and drew a few calming breaths. Then he moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, and began again, more calmly.

"You _lied _to me, Aaron," he said, disappointment and hurt coloring his voice, "I specifically asked you what the doctor said, and you _lied _to me."

Biting his lip and closing his eyes, Hotch gave a small nod. "I know."

"You deliberately risked _losing your hearing permanently_!" Rossi continued, his voice rising again, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I… I wasn't. Thinking."

"And how the hell did you manage not to think for several days?"

"Dave…" Hotch pleaded, because he really didn't want to go here, "Please."

"No," Rossi replied inexorably, "You don't get to whine about this. You saw the doctor on Monday. I asked you the same day what she'd said, and you _lied_. We got the case on Tuesday and you lied to me _again_! You had over a day, Aaron. You can't blame this not thinking."

What Hotch really wanted by now was to disappear into the sofa, but instead he forced himself to raise his head to almost look at Rossi. Because Rossi was right, damn it. He'd messed up, big time. "I'm sorry. I… I just… I don't know, Dave."

He wasn't really sure what he was admitting to not knowing, and definitely not sure it was the right thing to say. But it was honest, and Rossi seemed to be hung up on that right now.

"Figure it out, then. You're not leaving here without giving me an explanation."

All right. So honesty did nothing to soothe the older man's anger. That didn't necessarily mean that Rossi was more pissed with him than he'd been in years. With a sigh, he sat down on the sofa.

He swallowed and closed his eyes again, deciding that this would be easier if he didn't have to watch Rossi's stern face. "I wanted to get back to work."

"Oh. Yeah, well that's all right then. It's not as if your hearing is more important than getting everything you want straight away like a spoiled child."

Hotch blushed deeply. After all these years he still hated it when Rossi accused him of acting like a child. It… well, it stung, because he wanted to make his mentor proud, not remind him of a spoiled child. And what stung more was that he had been trying to do his job; he'd been irresponsible, sure, but not because he was just doing what he wanted to.

"Dave," he said, "I was doing my job. I admit that I was wrong to lie to you, and probably to go out in the field as well, but I was _doing my job_."

"No, Aaron, you weren't. You were risking never being able to your job again because of your pride and childishness and I expect you to tell me why."

Clenching his jaw, Hotch looked away. "I suppose it must be because I'm proud and childish, then."

As much as he agreed with Rossi that what he'd done was stupid, the accusation sparked a flare of anger in him, and his words were as harsh and cold as he could make them.

"If that was the reason I would've walked out on you a long time ago," Rossi said, almost dismissively, and Hotch heard rather than saw him taking a few steps closer, before capturing his chin and tilting his head up so he could look him in the face. Hotch still refused to meet his eyes, though. "You're a good man, Aaron."

He didn't say anything more and Hotch debated whether to pull free of his grasp or not, finally settling for keeping his eyes downcast as he waited for the older man to continue.

Unfortunately, Rossi didn't continue and after what felt like minutes of silence Hotch jerked his chin free. "So?"

"So there's a reason, and I want to know it."

Hotch closed his eyes again, sighing deeply. "I _don't know._ I made a mistake, and I'm sorry but I… well, I wanted to be in the field!"

"Why?" The question came like a whip-crack and sounded equally unforgiving. Knowing that when Rossi was in this mood he always got his answers, Hotch hid a small wince and continued, even though he really didn't know what to say.

"I don't know, I... I wanted to be useful again, I guess."

That might very well be the heart of the matter, now that he thought about it. Hotch hated being useless, hated not being able to do his job properly. His job was what he was; he'd known since he was little that he wanted to spend his life catching bad guys. And it wasn't as if he thought he had no worth outside of that, but what the hell did human worth in the abstract matter? His job was what he was; he'd lost his wife because of it, and he wasn't about to give it up because of some ear pain.

Rossi shook his head, a mildly bemused frown on his face. "Aaron, being useful isn't limited to running around in the field with a gun. It is kind of limited by being deaf, though."

"I'm not deaf, though," Hotch retorted, rather proud of his exasperated tone, "There's no damage at all."

"But there could have been," Rossi said, suddenly making Hotch considerably less proud of his own attempt at sounding exasperated, "I spoke to Jo. She says you're pretty damn lucky not to have busted ear drums. And unlike you, she has a medical degree."

Not sure how to answer that, Hotch looked down at his hands again, frowning. "All right. But…"

"No!" Rossi interrupted him, equal parts incredulous and angry, "No buts. You don't seem to understand, Aaron. _You_ _almost lost your hearing_. We're not talking about you rushing off to do some heroic, stupid stunt or not sleeping or eating enough, we're talking about you _deliberately risking becoming permanently deaf_!"

All right. So Rossi was possibly even more pissed off than he'd thought. He could handle that. Just… well, he didn't _like_ making his mentor angry. He'd made a decision to get on that plane and then to go out into the field – and he had to, grudgingly, admit that it had been against doctor's order – but he hadn't expected it to anger Rossi so. The lie he had known would anger the man, but he hadn't really expected him to find out that he'd lied. Which would have meant, Hotch realized now that he thought about it, another lie, or at least deception and Rossi's feelings were quite as strong about that. With an overwhelming suddenness, it hit Hotch just how much he must have disappointed Rossi and he felt his cheeks flooding with heat and an annoying lump settling in his throat.

"I'm sorry," he almost whispered, "I… I really am. It's just… it didn't seem that dangerous."

"Aaron, the doctor warned you."

Hotch grimaced, using that split second to make another decision. "Not really, she just…"

Rossi broke him off. "I'd think very carefully about what you say next, Aaron."

He grimaced again. Those words were classic Rossi-speak for "I know exactly what the doctor said and lying to me is only gonna get you more trouble".

"I guess I… didn't really take her seriously. I'm not going to become deaf, Dave."

That, apparently, wasn't the right thing to say, and the light tone was probably even worse – even if it _was _true, which it was because it had to be – if the thunderous expression that came over Rossi's face was anything to go by. "What is wrong with you! Are you really arrogant enough to think you know better about this than a _trained medical doctor_?"

"No! Of course not. But she… she was just overly cautious. She _must_ have been."

Clenching his jaw, Rossi drew a deep breath and pushed a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes, and for a moment the room was almost eerily silent. Then Rossi spoke again, this time very calmly.

"If a doctor tells you to be careful because you stand a risk of losing your hearing, you goddamn well make sure to be careful. Are you telling me you don't understand that?"

"No, I understand that. But… I… It's not… I just…" Hotch stuttered, before he realized that he was getting nowhere and threw back his head in frustration, drawing a deep breath before he looked at Rossi again and continued, "I made a bad decision. _I fucked up_. Is that what you want me to say?"

Rossi crossed his arms, training a disapproving look on him. "I want you to _understand_ that you fucked up and just how much. And yeah, I want you to say it and apologize for it and actually be sorry for it. I want you to sincerely promise me you won't do it again and I want you to accept the punishment I'm going to give you."

Hotch nodded, closing his eyes. "I… I'm sorry I lied to you."

He would have continued, but he realized he wasn't sure whether he could genuinely apologize for going out into the field. Assuming that the doctor had been right about the risk to his hearing, it had been a mistake. A pretty big mistake. And intellectually he knew that there was no reason to doubt that she had been right, but he just couldn't bring himself to really believe that he might actually have gone deaf.

"And...?" Rossi prompted after a while of silence. Hotch shrugged.

"I…" he began, then sighed, "Please hear me out before you yell, all right? I know that the doctor was probably right." Here Rossi's glare interrupted him and with a sigh he corrected himself. "That the doctor _was_ right. But I'm not sure I _believe_ it, Dave. I couldn't _really_ have gone deaf, right?"

Even he heard the note of pleading in the last words, but he found he didn't really care. It was a terrifying prospect to truly face the possibility that his injuries in the field could actually lead to permanent damage of the kind deafness meant and the most childish part of himself wanted Rossi to reassure him that he didn't have to. And right now the childish part seemed to have claimed more prominence than it usually had.

Rossi's face softened and he brushed his knuckles against Hotch's cheek for a split second. "Yeah, Aaron, you could. I spoke to Jo and she confirmed it. I know it's a hard thing to face, but… well, I don't really care how hard it is. You knew, Aaron, whether you believed it or not, and you still did what you did.

"Which brings us back to our starting point where you deliberately risked becoming permanently deaf, endangered yourself, the team and your entire career and where you explain to me how the hell that could ever seem to be an even remotely acceptable thing to do."

Hotch swallowed and looked down at his hands, picking nervously at his nails. "I… I lost Haley to this job. I lost Kate. I _need _to do this job, Dave. Otherwise it… was all for nothing."

He heard the older man draw a deep sigh before he took a seat next to Hotch and put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Aaron, you know I'd do anything to give you Kate back, and as for Haley… if there was a way to fix it, I would. And trust me, I know how much this job is a part of you, but I will never let you do it at the expense of your health. Especially when it's not even a necessary risk! You understand that, don't you?"

Hotch gave a small nod. "I do. And… I _am _sorry. It was stupid."

The room lapsed into silence. A rather strained silence, in Hotch's opinion. Then Rossi spoke, sounding almost a bit hesitant.

"The real problem here, Aaron," he began, "is that you knew perfectly well what you were doing. There wasn't some sort of crisis. You had time to make a decision, and you did _this_."

"I know," was all Hotch could say, looking down at hands.

"I'm not saying I approve of when you pull some hare-brained stunt the rest of the time, but at least it's understandable and I know that it won't happen most of the time. But this? How am I supposed to trust you when you lie to me for days for no other reason than wanting to get back in the field?"

"I…" Hotch began, then paused. He wanted to say that of course Rossi could trust him and that to think anything else was insulting. But he had lied to the older man. Deliberately and, like Rossi said, for several days. "I don't know."

"Why should I trust you then?"

Fuck. The small word pretty much summed up Hotch's feelings at the moment. He wanted – _needed_ – Rossi's trust, and not only as his team leader but as his friend as well. He had lied to the older man before, and been punished for it, but Rossi had never questioned whether he could trust Hotch like this before. Maybe he'd gone too far.

"I won't lie to you again," he said quietly, sincerely.

"And why should I believe that?" Rossi asked, his tone harsh and unforgiving, which Hotch supposed was rather suitable considering what he was asking. Hotch raised a hand to his face and shrugged.

"Because I won't. This was… special, Dave. I won't… I mean…" he trailed off, realizing that he was getting nowhere. Almost shyly, he raised his head to look at Rossi, "Are you saying you don't trust me?"

He knew he sounded ridiculously uncertain and vulnerable, but that was how he felt, and besides he really wanted Rossi to answer the question honestly. Preferably in the negative, because the alternative would be devastating.

Rossi gave a small, wry smile. "No, I'm not saying that. I trust you, Aaron. But right now you're not giving me very much reason to do so."

Knowing that Rossi was right, Hotch nodded, blushing. He wasn't going to deny that it was a huge relief to hear that Rossi hadn't lost his trust in him, but he had to admit that it might be completely deserved at the moment.

"I really won't lie to you again," he repeated, this time meeting Rossi's eyes. The other man shrugged.

"I'm not sure I believe you," he said, and before Hotch had time to protest that he had already said he still trusted him, he held up a hand and continued, "I trust you with my life, Aaron, and I trust you to do the right thing. I just can't entirely trust you to take care of yourself or to be honest with me, right now."

Hotch pondered this for a while, frowning. He could understand that, he supposed. "And what does that mean for… for us?"

Rossi shrugged again. "Well, you might have figured out that I'm punishing you. But other than that I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt, this time."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I won't accompany you to your doctor appointments, won't have Jo examine you every week and won't have you live with me."

"Oh. That's… good."

"Glad you think so, because if you do something like this again that's exactly what will happen."

Hotch nodded, swallowing nervously before he continued hesitantly. "And… what _will_ happen now?"

"What do you think? You'll get a spanking. And I want you to get your ears checked out tomorrow. _And,_ you can forget fieldwork for at least a couple of weeks."

Not sure what to say, Hotch just nodded his acceptance of the orders. He half wanted to protest the timeline on going out into the field, because he was pretty sure the doctor would clear him completely within a few days, but thought better of it. It was, after all, better than two weeks of enforced vacation, something Hotch had no doubts Rossi could arrange, never mind that Hotch was _his_ boss and not the other way around.

"Go change into something to sleep in," Rossi interrupted his thoughts, pointing toward Hotch's bedroom.

Still not saying anything – because, really, what was there to say? – Hotch got up and obediently made his way to his room. He quickly changed into a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, before hesitantly weighing on his feet in the doorway for a moment. Then he decided that he might as well face his punishment straight on and joined Rossi in the living room again.

His resolve weakened dramatically when he realized that the older man was holding a hairbrush in his hand and had now taken a seat on the couch.

"Come here," Rossi ordered curtly. Hotch obeyed, and uncomfortably allowed himself to be maneuvered across his mentor's lap. He knew that Rossi knew that he absolutely hated being in this position, even more than he hated being spanked, but he supposed that might be part of the point.

He shifted around a bit, trying to get as comfortable as he could considering his position, but he stilled when Rossi loped his arm around his waist and pulled him close, also taking the time to push him forward slightly.

"Tell me what you're being punished for," he ordered, sounding far too casual for Hotch's liking. But he knew better than to point that out, so instead he just answered.

"Lying to you," he began, fully intending to continue the list, only to be interrupted by Rossi bringing down the brush with a loud _smack_. Hotch flinched, mostly from surprise, partly at how very little protection the thin pajama pants offered. "Damn it, Dave!"

"I'll let that one slide," Rossi remarked dryly, but nevertheless brought the brush down once more before he continued, "Well, go on."

"Taking risks. Unnecessary risks."

Hotch decided to take the following smack as a confirmation that the answer was acceptable, and continued, although he was now unable to completely divert his attention from the sting in his backside. "Putting the team in danger. And myself?"

"Question or answer, Aaron?"

"Answer." Hotch confirmed, rolling his eyes. Because _really._

"Don't roll your eyes at me," Rossi admonished, and Hotch supposed he should have expected that. The older man wasn't a legendary profiler for nothing, after all. "And what's the number one thing?"

"Risking… risking losing my hearing," Hotch said finally, after a struggle with himself. Because it was surprisingly hard to voice just what he had actually done. Saying it would make it more real, and part of him still wanted to refuse believing that he might actually have gone deaf. That part, however, was rapidly losing ground as the hard smacks to his backside were starting to make it painfully clear just how seriously Rossi took this.

"Yes. _Your hearing._ Damnit, Aaron! Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again."

Each word was punctuated by a sharp smack and at the end not only was Rossi's voice almost breaking, Hotch also couldn't keep himself from slamming his fist down against the sofa as a grunt escaped him.

After that neither of them spoke for what seemed like ages to Hotch; the only sound in the room the brisk swats and occasionally Hotch's pained grunts, which to be honest were starting to drift off into something more sob-like. And Hotch was pretty sure Rossi was using more strength than he used to, though he admittedly might have forgotten what it was like being spanked in the years since it happened with any sort of regularity. He didn't think so, though. Besides, it was beginning to not matter very much considering the steadily increasing pain in his backside.

"And," Rossi spoke up again, when Hotch was already crying softly into a pillow, "Don't _ever_ lie to me like that again."

This time Hotch was certain that the swats were harder than usual and by the end of Rossi's sentence, it was taking all of his resolve not to kick his foot against the sofa.

And soon enough his resolve wasn't enough and he was twisting to get out of Rossi's grasp as he dug his fingers into the pillow he was clasping and tried to stifle his flow of tears. Because, _damn_ this hurt more than it should. It was just… the pain never subsided before more was added, every sharp smack ignited a new spot and damnit his _entire backside was on fire._

He was pretty much crying freely by now, and to honest not all of it was from pain. Most of it wasn't from pain, really. It was from shame, guilt and as strange as it sounded a deal of relief. Relief that Rossi was still there to give a damn about what he did.

"Please, Dave," he gritted out, clenching his fist. He knew that he probably stood no chance of shortening the spanking, but at least he could make sure Rossi knew he was getting through to him – if the fact that he was crying wasn't making that clear enough. Besides, at this point Hotch was prepared to latch on to even a small chance to end the spanking.

"Sorry, son" Rossi replied, actually sounding somewhat sorry, "I need you to remember this one."

Hotch considered pointing out that he remembered _all _the spankings Rossi gave him, but decided that it probably wasn't the greatest of ideas. And he did understand where Rossi was coming from, in a way.

But that didn't stop him from grinding out another plea when Rossi's brisk swats only continued raining down. "Dave. _Please_. I- I understand. _Really_!"

"Good."

He didn't stop though, and by the final few swats Hotch was crying freely, his arms looped tightly around the pillow in front of him. Because _damnit _his backside was stinging; burning. It took him a moment to realize Rossi had finished, and even then he remained still over the older man's lap for a while, drawing deep breaths as he tried to make the burning sting go away just by thinking about it intently enough. He would have reached back and rubbed, but to be honest he felt too drained from the sudden release of emotion and too comfortable with Rossi' warm hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles, to feel like moving.

"You okay?" Rossi asked gently after a while, momentarily moving his hand to lightly ruffle Hotch's hair. Hotch drew deep breath and sort of maybe sniffled before he nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "I… yeah."

"Good," Rossi said, but he made no move to move Hotch from his position, and Hotch supposed that he didn't really want him to.

It might have taken several minutes, but the burning in his backside finally receded to tolerable levels and his crying had drifted off into nothing, but he still really didn't feel like moving. Normally, he'd be extremely uncomfortable in this situation, but right now he was just too drained to care about anything but the comfort of Rossi's warm hand rubbing circles on his back and the soothing Italian phrases he mumbled.

And when Rossi shifted slightly to maneuver him off his lap, Hotch couldn't help the small sound of protest that escaped him.

"We can't stay like this all night," Rossi said in reply, almost a bit apologetic, "You wouldn't be very comfortable."

He was probably right, so Hotch just let him move away and leave Hotch lying on the sofa instead of over Rossi's lap. And in spite of how careful he was, the movement still made the fabric of his pants grate against his backside, making him grunt slightly in pain. Rossi moved a comforting hand over his hair.

"Shh… You'll be okay. I'm just gonna get you something to wash your face, okay?"

Hotch nodded and after only a few moments Rossi returned, handing him a handkerchief. "Blow your nose," he ordered. Hotch obeyed, giving the older man a small smile.

"You don't actually have to tell me to, you know," he said. Rossi only smiled, taking the handkerchief from him and replacing it with a moist towel.

"Wash your face."

Rolling his eyes, Hotch obeyed and then handed the towel back to Rossi. He half wanted to get up and wash his face more properly – because he hated how gritty his eyes felt after crying – but not wanting to move won out and he closed his eyes and laid down his head to rest. But not before asking something.

"Dave?"

"Mm?" Rossi replied, ignoring Hotch's attempts at keeping a hold of his pillow as he pulled it away. Apparently it was only to replace with another one, though, so that was okay, Hotch guessed.

"That was the hardest spanking you've ever given me," he remarked, trying to sound casual, and burrowed down into the new pillow – which really was more comfortable than the last.

"Well…" Rossi said, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa, "That was probably the stupidest thing you've ever done. I can't make sure bad things don't happen to you, Aaron – however much I'd like to – but I can at least try to make sure you don't do shit like this and if that means spanking you I can live with that."

Hotch nodded again, by now too sleepy to reply properly. Rossi seemed to notice how close he was to sleep, and nudged his shoulder lightly.

"Hey, don't fall asleep yet. I need you to drink some water first."

"Sure," Hotch replied, blinking a few times to keep his eyes open.

It didn't work.

* * *

With a small grimace at the memory, Hotch quickly sent a text back to Rossi.

**Got it**.

"He's Dave," Hotch repeated, looking up at Beth with a small smile again. "He's the one who brought me into the BAU and trained me. He was – is – my mentor, I guess."

Beth nodded thoughtfully, drawing up her legs under her. "So you listen to him."

"Yeah," Hotch confirmed with a nod, "I listen to him."

* * *

**A/N2: Please leave a review. :)**


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